


Masked

by mcal



Series: Jamione Drabbles [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, Halloween Costumes, Hogwarts Seventh Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 09:24:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20307190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcal/pseuds/mcal
Summary: It's a ball and Hermione is finally in the arms of her long-time crush, James Potter... But she thinks he thinks she's Lily Evans...





	Masked

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyKenz347](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/gifts), [Frumpologist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/gifts).

> Completely unalpha'd and unbeta'd. Purely for my dear friends LK347 and Frumpologist. And the fun and love of Jamione. 
> 
> I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

It’s everything she’s ever wanted. It’s a ball and she’s dancing with James Potter. With _the _James Potter. Star Chaser of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, top marks in Transfiguration, Charms extraordinaire, Head Boy James Potter. 

He’s holding in her close in his arms, large calloused fingers drawing lazy circles over her lower back with one hand, while the other cradles a hand she’s determined to never wash again. 

He’s humming to the slow melody the enchanted stringed instruments are playing and she leans deeper into his embrace, breathing him in, and he smells like broom-polish, leather, musk, and ink. 

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, and gooseflesh breaks out over her skin... 

And tears inexplicably fill her eyes. 

She rests her head against his chin, partly because she just wants to savour this moment, but mostly because she wants to hide the fact she’s squeezing her eyes tightly shut, willing the tears to dissipate. 

It’s not real. None of this is real. It’s a Masked Ball for Halloween. She recognised him immediately, but James has no idea who he’s really holding. 

In fact, Hermione’s quite certain he thinks he’s holding Lily Evans in his arms. 

Lily Evans: Potions Queen, friend to the outcast, perfect hourglass figure, long ginger locks every male student has fantasised about sinking his hands into... The Jewel of Gryffindor, herself. 

And James has never been secretive of his admiration for Lily Evans. In fact, up until their last term of sixth year, James has bordered on the fringes of obnoxious with is declarations of _feelings _for Lily Evans... 

And Hermione’s no fool. She knows how this story ends. As Head Boy and Head Girl, the trope almost writes itself. James at last has his chance to show himself the responsible, confident leader Hermione’s always seen hiding under the juvenile pranks. And Lily has no choice but to answer the pull of Fate, and allow herself to soften and eventually fall in love with James Potter.. 

Hermione’s breath hitches and James’ lips press against her curls. 

“Everything all right, love?” 

Love. 

_Love_. 

She’s going to lose all sense of composure in the middle of the bloody hall, and thank Merlin and all the Founders that the song has come to an end. 

Sorrow binds itself to her every muscle, clamping around her heart as she begins to pull away. She blinks once before meeting his perfect hazel eyes. “Never better, James.” Surprise flickers across his face, but she ignores it, and every logical instinct in her body, and rises on her toes. 

She lingers in his embraces a moment longer, willing him to know who she really is before doing this decidedly stupid thing. “Thank you,” she breathes before closing the distance between them, pressing her lips to his cheek. She uses his obvious shock to her advantage, backing away, swallowing hard, and flashing him a sad smile. “Goodnight.” 

With that, she spins on her heels and flees the Great Hall, her curls and gown catching in the wind. It is only as she slips through one of the large sets of double doors that she gasps a breath, drinking in the air of freedom as she slows her pace to a practical walk. 

It’s done. She’s danced with the prince, even snagged a bit of that reckless Gryffindor bravery for herself and kissed his cheek. 

She can move on now. 

She pulls her golden mask form over her head, and the enchantment falls from her hair. It was too much work to keep her curls from being anything but wild and untamed for the stretch of time needed for the ball, but she’d charmed the mask to keep her hair as black as night for as long as she wore the mask... 

A happily unhappy coincidence that worked to her advantage tonight—

“_Wait!” _

She stops at the sudden shouted request. 

_No_. 

She snatches at the skirt of her grown and rushes ahead, loathing at the footsteps that she hears sprinting behind her. 

“Stop!” James yells. “Please, wait!” 

Her chest is heaving, but she only runs faster. She wants to keep this memory, this beautiful fantasy, alive for as long as she can. She wants to hold it close, keep it forever as hers to cherish… and she’ll be damned if it’s ruined for her now…

All because James still thinks she’s Lily… 

“Hermione! Please don’t run away, love.” 

She halts, pitching forward, losing her balance with this blasted heels (low as they are…), but she’s caught. 

James catches her and whirls her around. 

Unbidden tears once again pool in her eyes, and she doesn’t want to look at him, but she can’t tear her gaze away. 

“You…” Her throat is as sand, and she attempts to swallow. Useless attempt really. He’s removed his mask, too, and her entire world becomes fathomless hazel eyes and thick, messy, raven-coloured locks that always gives him the look of being freshly shagged. Or pleasantly casual… She gulps out of desperation, trying to defer her hope to what she knows must be the disappointing truth: “You’re only chasing me because you thought it was Lily in there.” 

An absolutely infuriating smirk curls its way up his face, and he dips his head impossibly closer to hers. “No,” he says, bumping his nose to hers. She recoils, trying to back away, but his hands cling to hers, and she’s dreamed of holding his hands for so long, it’s instinct for her fingers to close over his. For her to bask in his warm touch. “If you’d just waited a moment in the Hall, I would have pulled you aside for a quiet drink and made my grand confession, Hermione Granger.” 

“Confession?” She loathes that her voice squeaks, but there’s nothing for it… 

“Yes,” he affirms, stepping two steps nearer to her. “I knew who you were the moment I saw the curls, but even before that, I’ve had this plan. I’ve made Sirius, Remus, Peter insane with how much I’ve gone over this with them, but the whole purpose of the ball was to woo and wow you.” 

Everything’s spinning now, and it’s all she can do to respond with a high-pitched “pardon?” 

“Indeed, Miss Granger,” he hums, adjusted his hold to slip his fingers through the gaps between hers… and she lets him. She even responds by encouraging this new hold with a gentle squeeze of her own fingers. “You see, it took a good several months to fully feel myself again in the aftermath of Lily’s outrage at the end of fifth year. And once I decided I’d finally moved on from needing her attention and affection, another witch caught my eye.”

(He’s so close. So achingly close, and she must be dreaming.)

He nuzzles his cheek to hers and continues: “This witch, she’s brilliant, you see. She’s kind, and thoughtful, and brimming with ideas for how to change wizarding society for the better. She’s stunning, too, absolutely breath-taking, and I’ve fancied her for the better part of seven or eight months now.” 

“James…” 

He brushes his lips to her cheek, withdrawing only to cradle her face in his hands. “I should confess to you that Sirius resorted to deceptive spying methods to determine your costume in advance for me. And it was an unfortunate coincidence that Lily’s hair and mask ideas were so similar to yours.” She looses shaky laugh, and he beams at her. “Remus tried to talk her into something else, but she’s quite the stubborn witch.”

She’s heard enough. She raises to her tip-toes again, and pillows his lips with hers in a brief, but fully intentional kiss. HIs eyes are wide as she withdraws, and it’s her turn to smirk. “I think you’ll find I’m quite stubborn myself, James Potter.” 

“I’m aware,” he murmurs, his lips hovering temptingly over hers. “May I kiss you, Hermione? Please. Please let me—” 

Her lips crash to his, and her arms are wrapping around his shoulders as his hands trace up and down her neck before one sinks into her hair and the other finds its home at her lower back. It’s a tender embrace and she almost hates to pull away. But she needs to, if only to grant him further permission for the course of the night. 

“Snog me breathless, Mr. Potter, and I just might let you study with in the library this weekend.” 

He laughs and it’s the sound of the sun shining over a field of flowers. It’s the stars twinkling down on unsuspecting young lovers below… It’s everything she adores about him, and he starts backing them to a wall. “As the lady wishes,” he says before closing his lips over hers again. 

Her mask has fallen, and she forgets all about it in the aftermath of the night… But its one she never forgets regardless. 


End file.
